


The Jerk's Little Bitch

by queer_consultant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Assisted Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Butt Plugs, Coming Untouched, Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Talk, First Time Blow Jobs, Gas-N-Sip, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation in Bathroom, Multiple Sex Positions, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Switch Dean Winchester, Switch Sam Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Underage Kissing, Underage Masturbation, Vibrators, Voyeur Sam Winchester, Voyeurism, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, but actually it's - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15554487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queer_consultant/pseuds/queer_consultant
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester aren't your average brothers - not by a long shot. Normal has never been a word that applied to them. Hunting supernatural beings with your father wasn't a traditional family occupation, and the boys always had each other; no matter how many no-name towns they went to, they were there for one another. They were close - closer than their father knew, or would ever know.





	The Jerk's Little Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> ADDITIONALLY UPLOADED TO: Tumblr & Wattpad
> 
> WRITING DURATION: 13 Days

It had been Dean teaching Sam - that was how it all began between the Winchesters. Their father, John, was away on a hunt, which was pretty normal for the boys. They were dumped at some motel, given the same repeated instructions and a few twenties - it was nothing new for them, but that didn’t mean everything was sunshine and Saturday-morning cartoons.

Sam had been hit by puberty, and it hit hard and fast without warning, leaving him with far too many questions to let go of. He shot up like a weed - he grew overnight, or so it seemed; he went from short and somewhat pudgy to lanky, towering and thin, and his dad was barely around for any of it, always out on a job. Luckily, he had another man to look up to; one he admired, one who, to him, could have been a god, and that was Dean. Dean, who was his big brother, the one person that was always there for him. Dean, who seemed to know what to do about almost everything.

Naturally, Sam went to him, looking for answers, or advice, or anything. 

He wasn’t used to this body. He felt like he was tripping over himself, and when he looked in the mirror, it wasn’t really him. It was this tall, skinny guy with hair in new places and strange urges. 

Dean would know what to do, so after a long stare in the mirror and a shower, Sam decided to go to his brother. He would do it tomorrow, after school.

+

It had started out so innocently. He had intended to ask Dean for help to figure out how he could navigate this person he had become, and that was all. He just needed to understand it.

He came back from school, knowing his dad would be out and Dean would be hanging around the motel room, probably bored out of his mind. This hunt was supposed to be short - a week or two at most - and John told Dean not to bother getting a job, since they could end up leaving earlier anyway, so Sam knew the chances of Dean being available to talk were as high as ever. Today was as good a time as any to ask. It was a Friday, and their dad would be out for the weekend, so that left plenty of time for questions.

He opened the front door of the motel, rolling his eyes at the empty cans sitting tipped over on the counter and the magazines strewn about on the floor. His brother wasn’t on the couch watching TV or cleaning whatever weapons he had in that duffel bag of his. 

“Dean, you need to quit leaving your stuff out, Dad’s gonna be upset!” he warned, just in case his brother was around somewhere.

Silence followed. He didn’t get a response from Dean - not a “All right, Sammy,” or a “Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick it up,” or even a “Whatever, bitch!” The only sounds were the hum of the fan and the sound of car engines roaring on the nearby highway.

“Dean?” he called out softly, reaching into his back pocket to grab his silver pocket knife as a precaution. 

Still, nothing. 

He walked forward, further into the room, looking around and over his shoulder every few seconds, blade at the ready for any threat that would sneak up on him.

He stepped lightly, silently, as he checked under the beds, behind the couch, in the kitchen-area, in the closets, and found no one. When he neared the bathroom, he heard an odd noise and paused. The door was ajar, just enough that he could see inside of the little room. There was a flash of skin, and he held his breath, hoping it wasn’t a shape-shifter or skin-walker. Hearing the sound again, Sam moved to the other side of the door, peeking into the gap. 

He saw Dean - that brought Sam some relief, knowing it was him, and not some intruding monster - with his back to the door. His older brother was naked - Sam had seen him that way before, so it didn’t make him uncomfortable - with his left arm raised to the wall and his forehead resting against his forearm, shoulders hunched and muscles flexing, toned and prominent from hunting and training and working out. He wasn’t totally sure what Dean was doing - he had been far too innocent at the time, having minimal knowledge on masturbation since he had yet to do it himself - but he seemed to be rocking his hips forward with his right arm jerking back and forth, breathing hard and whispering something. If Sam focused on listening, he could almost make out the words, but the easiest to understand were small curses. 

He had been a little confused, but when Dean turned to lean against the bathroom counter, clutching the edge of the faux granite, Sam got a full view and almost gasped as he began to comprehend the scene before him.

His brother was panting, groaning out utterances of “Oh, god,” and “Shit,” and “Yes,” as he fucked his fist. Wet sounds, just slight squelches, followed every thrust, and every few moments, Dean would tilt his head back or squeeze his eyes shut.

Sam was frozen in place, his gaze on his brother; he felt dirty spying, but still, he was fascinated. He knew he should have been horrified at the sight, but he wasn’t - he was just curious. 

He stayed silent, feeling his cheeks flaming. He let his bangs fall into his eyes as he watched, fixated on how much Dean seemed to be enjoying himself. 

It seemed to go on forever, just an endless score of whimpers and soft cries as Dean pushed himself into his hand over and over. 

Sam kept quiet, just pressing his lips together and digging his nails into his palm. Every so often, he would feel a peculiar heat burning low in his body as he gaped at his brother. 

With a strained moan, Dean rocked his hips forward, and with a twitch of his cock, he came. Sam continued watching, captivated, as the creamy white stuff spilled over Dean’s fingers and onto the counter, and he felt another bout of that strange warmth in the pit of his stomach.

While Dean took a moment to let himself recover, still braced against the counter, eyes shut and breathing beginning to slow, Sam processed what he had just witnessed, and more, what he had done. He had watched, and that had to have been just a little wrong, at the very least. 

He turned away for a moment, cheeks still hot. Tugging his shirt downward to cover whatever might be below his belt, poking up in his jeans, he looked back, and saw his brother cleaning himself and the counter off with tissues, balling them up and throwing them away. Dean washed his hands and splashed the cold motel water on his face, and Sam all but sprinted to the couch. He was careful not to make a sound - he couldn’t alert his brother of his presence; that would be too suspicious. 

So, in an attempt to act as nonchalant as possible, he grabbed the first magazine he saw, and sat on the couch, tugging his shirt over his lap and flicking his bangs out of his eyes before flipping the glossy issue open.

His brother rounded the corner fully dressed, and headed toward him, leaning against the fridge, staring at Sam. He had no idea that his little brother had seen what he was doing, and Sam had every intent to keep it that way. He looked over at Dean, sending a little nod of acknowledgement his way. He didn’t look up from the magazine he had snatched up from the floor in a rush, trying to look like he was really interested in it. 

”So, how’s last weeks edition of Better Homes and Gardens treatin’ ya, Sammy?” Dean asked, clearing his throat, still a little flushed in the face.

“Oh, uh, just fine. Really good stuff in here. Did you know that - “ Sam looked down at the magazine he was holding up, eyes scanning the page he opened up to at random for a fact to make it seem like he had been reading. He found something, and with a little mental math, continued, “Cross-stitching has been around for, like, fourteen-thousand years?”

Dean tilted his head to the side in mock-thought and grinned. “Sammy, I can’t say I knew that. That’s might come in handy,” he bantered.“ You’re s’pposed to learn somethin’ new every day, right?”

Sam smiled. “It’s a good thing to do, yeah.”

Dean turned to the fridge, popping it open and looking around. “Mac ‘n Cheese sound all right?”

Sam hummed. “Sounds good.”

+

Dean had dinner on the stove, and the box was laying on the counter, much like the things he had left on the floor. Sam wanted to throw it out, even though their dad wasn’t coming back for a couple days. He just didn’t like leaving things lying around. 

He tossed the magazine onto the couch, picking up the other ones from the floor and setting them in a neat pile together on top of that one. He picked up the cans then, and grabbed the box from the counter, throwing them in the trash - there wasn’t a recycle bin that he knew of, so that would have to suffice. 

He came over to where his brother stood, mixing up the Mac ‘n Cheese and humming one of those songs that always seemed to be playing in the Impala. 

“Um, Dean, can I ask you a question?” He lifted himself up to sit on the counter. 

Dean looked over at him, giving him a grin. “Sammy, that was a question.”

“I mean another question,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Shoot.” Dean turned back toward the pan, continuing his stirring.

Sam cleared his throat so a squeak wouldn’t be the first thing to leave his mouth. “I - uh - I think I’m supposed to go to Dad about stuff like this, but he’s not really around.”

“He does his best, Sam,” Dean said, bristled and defensive, moving the spoon a little faster.

“I know! I know. It’s just, I don’t really now how to ask, and it’d be easier to ask you, I guess.”

“Well, get out with it, then.”

Sam hesitated. He could get a book from the library or something, then he wouldn’t have to ask - he probably should.

“Dean, weird things are happening.”

Dean stopped stirring. “Like what? Cold spots? Strange - “

“Smells, yeah, no. It’s stuff with me, Dean.”

Dean smiled, reaching up to ruffle Sam’s hair. “Sammy, you’ve always been a little weird. It comes with the job, or, y’know, the family business, in our case.”

“Not like that!” Sam pushed Dean’s hand away, but he wasn’t overly forceful about it. 

“Then what’s the deal, Sam?” his brother asked, shrugging it off and going back to mixing.

“I got taller. And skinny. And… different.”

Dean paused, not quite looking up, just casting a sideways glance. “You’re asking about freaking puberty?”

Sam fidgeted with his hands, letting his hair fall into his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t have anyone else to ask, Dean.”

\+ 

Eventually, Dean had given in after a bit of pestering and said he would tell Sam everything he needed to know if he would let him finish cooking and eat in peace.

Dean served up the Mac ‘n Cheese and put on AC/DC’s Back In Black - he had the album playing on the motel’s stereo system while they ate, and every so often, Sam would have to tell him not to sing with food in his mouth. 

He wolfed down his food, both genuinely hungry and impatient to get to talking, to get answers. Dean picked up on this, and ate agonizingly slow, warning Sam that “eating faster wasn’t going to get him answers any sooner.”

As he sat waiting, that little secret - the fact that he had watched Dean that afternoon - began to itch. When he thought back to it, he couldn’t quite look Dean in the eye without blushing. He kept his eyes glued to the table for the most part, and when Dean finished eating and the last song, “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” ended, he blocked the memory from his mind as best as he could so that he could look at his brother.

Dean took their bowls to the sink, setting them in and washing them, looking over his shoulder at his eager little brother every few moments. He was dreading this conversation; he didn’t feel fit to explain it all to his brother. Then again, it was better for it to be that way, rather than being a total jerk and telling him to go to the library and get some books, figure it out on his own.

He dried the bowls after he washed and rinsed them, and said, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth, then we’ll talk.” 

Sam looked at him, disbelief painting his features. “Are you kidding? Dean, you’re stalling!” 

“It’s good hygiene, Sammy. You ought to brush up too,” he suggested. 

“Dean!” Sam cried out in protest.

“Do it!”

+

After that, Dean ran out of plausible excuses for putting off the conversation, the wretched talk.

Sam was sitting on the couch, waiting for his brother to quit dodging his promised explanation. When Dean finally came around to it, he settled himself down on the couch next to his little brother, and tried to think of how he could begin.

“I, uh, guess I’m s’pposed to tell you about that stupid ‘birds and bees’ metaphor, but basically, all living things have sex to reproduce. When you get to be older, like you are now, your friends will start to change like you - god, this is awkward, this’ll be so freaking weird. Look, chicks are gonna get hot, dudes will get hairy and tall and smelly, and you’re gonna be… uh, feeling new things.”

Sam listened, and Dean went on to explain STDs - he ended that with, “Look, just use a condom, and you’ll be all right. Be careful, and don’t pick up any chicks that are too easy.” - and then gave some brief insight on body changes, and sex. 

“All right, Sammy. Basically, a guy screws a chick, and if she gets knocked up, it’s bad news. Unless they want a kid,” Dean said. “So that’s, y’know, what sex is. And always use a condom. No matter who you’re with, chick or dude, you should have one.”

Sam gave his older brother a confused look. 

“Oh. I didn’t talk about that yet, huh? Okay. So, uh, Sammy, sometimes guys are with guys. And girls are with girls. That can be love. Just, uh, maybe not bring that up to Dad.”

“Doesn’t he know?” Sam asked, unfazed. 

“Oh, he knows all right,” Dean replied, a strange, heated look flashing though his eyes. 

Sam knew that look. Dean was hiding something big, or at least holding back form saying whatever it was he was thinking about. He didn’t want to pry, though, so he let it go.

+

Dean talked for quite a while, and just briefly touched on the subject of masturbation with, “Sometimes people get real horny and blow off some steam alone, but you’ll probably figure that out. I mean, I did.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I think that’s enough for tonight. Let’s hit the hay.”

Sam looked over at the clock on the wall. “Dean, it’s nine-twenty-two. It’s not even late.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired. Just try to go to sleep, Sammy.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dean. For talking to me about it all.” Sam sighed softly. He supposed he could sleep, and he didn’t want to disappoint his brother. 

“No problem.”

+

Sam woke up early on Saturday morning, pouring himself a bowl of cereal shortly after rolling out of bed. Dean was still asleep, so Sam sat in silence with only the sounds of the highway and the fan to accompany the crunching of his breakfast. He read a lore book while he ate - one of many that his dad had left for him to peruse - and when he finished his cereal, he washed out his bowl, deciding to shower. 

On his way to the bathroom, he looked over at Dean. He was sprawled out on the other bed, clad only in a t-shirt and jeans, snoring softly. His brother barely stirred, and Sam grabbed a blanket, pulling it over Dean as gently as possible to keep him from waking. 

He shut the bathroom door once he got inside, bur didn’t click the lock shut, and stripped off his clothes, taking another long stare at himself in the mirror. When he closed his eyes, he could see Dean standing in the same place that he was in, hunched over and touching himself. 

He pressed his lips together, tongue darting out to slide over them before he brought up his right hand to glide over his left arm. It made his skin tingle as he trailed his fingers over his bare body. 

Sam sucked in a breath, stopping himself as his hand began to brush his chest. He turned toward the shower, stepping in and turning it on, letting the water drench him. He squirted shampoo into his palm, rubbing it up into a lather in his hair, going about his shower as he would any other, but after he washed himself, he began to explore his body again.

Sams newly-thinned, long fingers started at his forearms, dragging them up slowly to his lean biceps and shoulders - those had been getting a little wider, he had noticed - running them up over his neck and up his chin to brush over his lips. The new sensation made him wonder what another mouth would feel like, warm and wet and sealed against his.

He played with his lower one, pulling it gently with his thumb and forefinger, and let his right hand slide down his torso. 

He had woken up rather stiff that morning, and not in an achy-muscles-stiff kind of way. More like the new stiff he was feeling, that odd hardening in his crotch, the tightening of his jeans there every so often; it seemed to be a repetitive thing, and he didn’t like it - it was frustrating, trying to make it go down. He tried thinking of things he didn’t like, and imagining his brother naked wasn’t helping - it made it worse, actually, but he wasn’t about to say that to Dean.

Clowns, on the other hand - those got his recurring problems to go away. Those creepy smiles and creepier gazes, that horrifying makeup and huge, puffy clothes, the polka-dotted outfits - that was the real scary stuff, and it always seemed to do the trick.

Right now, though, Sam wasn’t trying to get it to go away. He wanted to try what Dean had done. It looked like it had felt so good, and his brother had absolute bliss written all over his face while he had been doing it. So, naturally, Sam was going to do it too. He idolized his brother, and if Dean did it, how bad could it be? It hadn’t looked bad at all, to say the very least.

Sam closed his eyes, choosing to lean with his back against the shower wall as the water poured down on him. He curled his fingers tentatively around the protrusion between his legs, just grabbing it by the base. He squeezed it, and bit back a shaky gasp when he gave it an experimental tug.

He fumbled around for a moment, then rubbed his thumb over the swelling head, and a breathy moan escaped his lips when he repeated the motion. 

He wasn’t much for swearing or blasphemy, but once he began to work into a sloppy rhythm of thrusts into his fist, he whimpered out little utterances of “Oh, god,” and “sh-shit,” breathing heavily though his nose.

He didn’t hear the door creak when Dean came in.

“Hey, Sammy, I’m - oh, whoa. Okay, I’m gonna brush my teeth, so, uh, sorry to disturb. Mazel tov, buddy!”

+

Sam came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet and chest bare. He was hard and frustrated, and as a result of that, he was rather grumpy. 

He found Dean sitting on his bed, leafing through one of his magazines, foam leaking from his mouth while his toothbrush hung loosely from his lips like a cigarette. “Mhm, ‘ey ‘ammy! ‘Ow’d ‘t ‘o?”

Sam gave his brother a peeved look - one of his bitch-faces, as a matter of fact. “I can’t understand you when there’s stuff in your mouth, Dean. Plus, that’s gross.”

Dean rolled his eyes, hopping up off the bed and darting into the bathroom, spitting out the foam and rinsing it down the sink. He came back and plopped down on the bed. “I said, ‘Oh, hey, Sammy! How’d it go?’ I was being nice.”

“It didn’t go,” Sam grumbled.

Dean looked bemused. “Didn’t go?”

“Yeah,” Sam responded curtly. He scowled. Right when he came to the edge - that peak, where the heat in his stomach made him feel like he might explode - he hit a wall. Not literally, but he couldn’t finish. Not like Dean had when he was touching himself and Sam was spying - no, not spying. Spying was bad. He was just watching.

Clearing his throat, Dean said, “D’you, uh, wanna talk about it?”

Sam turned away, clutching the towel around his waist, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. “Why would I talk about it? Isn’t that weird?” 

He cringed when his voice cracked toward the middle of each sentence. He freaking hated puberty.

Dean sighed, running a hand up through his hair. “Sammy, you said it yourself. Dad’s not around - he tries to be, though, he does - and I’m the only guy you’ve got to talk to about this stuff. C’mon, buddy. I’ll hear you out.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Sam, I didn’t laugh when I caught you jerkin’ it in the shower. I’m not gonna laugh now,” Dean said, sounding solemn and genuine.

“Promise?” Sam asked.

“Sure thing.”

+

Sam sat beside Dean on the bed, cheeks still flaming, but Dean didn’t tease him about it.

“So, you can’t get off?” 

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Any idea why?”

He hesitated. “I guess it’s like - it’s like there’s this ledge, and I’m gonna fall over it - I want to - but there’s also a net, and it’s keeping me right up on that ledge.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Sammy, I don’t know if this is right, but maybe it’s that you’re too tense. Were you nervous?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I wasn’t exactly relaxed after you walked in.”

Dean grinned sheepishly. “Ye-eah. Sorry ‘bout that. I hadn’t known that you weren’t just washin’ up in there.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, sure.”

“Honest! I swear I had no idea.”

+

It was a blur, how it all happened. 

At some point, Sam dropped his towel, and settled himself between Dean’s spread legs, his back against his brother’s chest. He didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, being this vulnerable, because he was with Dean. Dean soothed him; he made him feel safe. 

His brother talked him through it in the beginning, just telling him things he already knew from watching - Dean didn’t know he had seen him though, so Sam had to act like he knew a lot less than he did. 

When he finally let Sam start off on his own, Dean was surprised to find that his brother wasn’t fumbling around. He must have been listening, he supposed. If anyone would, it would be Sam; he was always smart, and good at listening, at retaining information.

Sam’s fingers curled around his hard-on, and he found himself sucking in a breath at the contact. He had gotten so close in the shower, and this was left over - this irritating, frustrating, touch-hungry, stiff bother between his legs. It had softened a little when he had gotten out of the shower and combed through his hair, trying to will it down, but still, for the most part, was hard and ready to go.

After a few strokes, his head fell back onto Dean’s shoulder, and quiet noises began to pour from his lips as his body moved into a rhythm. They were suspiciously close to what Dean had uttered between moans, groans and whimpers, but his older brother didn’t pay any mind to that.

Instead, Dean wrapped his arms around his younger brother’s middle, holding him as he came closer and closer to his orgasm - his very first - and he whispered encouragements to his younger brother. 

“You’re doing so well, Sammy. You’re close, you are. Just keep going,” he murmured, glad to be behind Sam and not facing him. He was biting his lip like mad, trying to ignore the press of his own rock-hard erection against his jeans, pushing at the small of his brother’s back. 

Instead, he focused on Sam’s nipples, twisting them and brushing his fingers over them to get a rise out of him. His little brother keened, jerking his hips up and fucking his fist wildly, and Dean settled his chin on Sam’s shoulder, urging him on. His brother’s whole body was flushed red, and every so often a moan or a low whine would leave Sam’s mouth and he would feel his cock twitch.

“C’mon, you’re almost there, Sammy,” he purred.

“Dean, Dean,” Sam panted out, “I - ah - I saw you, you know.”

“Saw me?”

“I saw you touching yourself, Dean,” Sam confessed in the heat of the moment, “yesterday.”

Dean’s breathing hitched, and his lips brushed up against his brother’s ear as he growled softly, “Oh, yeah? Did you watch it all?”

“Yes!” Sam shuddered.

”You’re a little voyeur, then, aren’t you?”

Dean tugged Sam’s nipple, digging his nails into the sensitive skin, satisfied when his little brother keened, back arching.

“I am, I am!” He whimpered. “Please, Dean!”

“Please, what, Sammy?” Dean demanded, nipping at his ear. 

“I need to - I need - Dean, I don’t know!” Sam moaned, bucking his hips up. “It feels - ”

“It’s building up, Sammy,” Dean whispered, voice low and rough. “You have to let it go.”

Sam tossed his head back, leaning it against Dean’s shoulder again, breathing uneven and hand jerking up and down as he cried out in desperation, “I don’t know how to!” 

Dean hushed him, trying to calm his brother, whispering more encouragements. “Sammy, Sammy, listen. You feel something coming. I know. I want you to let yourself go over that edge. Stop holding back. You know you can.”

Sam halted and grabbed Dean’s right hand, lacing their fingers together, making it so that he was not only fucking his own hand, but his older brother’s as well.

“Dean! I know you can do it, please, help me!”

Sam was panting and thrusting up into their hands, and it took everything in Dean not to grind against his ass that kept pushing against the bulge in his jeans as Sam lifted his hips.

He jerked his hand up and down Sam’s cock - it was hot in his palm, and slick with pre-cum, and he moved his thumb up to rub over the head, making his younger brother cry out, “D-Dean!”

Sam shook, writing in Dean’s arms as he came, moaning and bucking into both his brother’s and his own hand as he came. The same creamy white stuff he saw spill from Dean’s cock came from his, and the feeling was nothing short of euphoric. 

+

When Sam came down from the high of his orgasm, he found that Dean was stroking his still-damp hair with his free hand, and then nudged him and asked, “Could you maybe stand up, Sammy?” 

Sam did, though he felt a tremble in his thighs, and Dean hopped off of the bed, grabbing a few tissues and coming back to help Sam get cleaned off.

His voice was low and gruff when he said, “I’m, uh, gonna - I’m goin’ to the bathroom. You can finish up here, right?”

Sam nodded, but he knew Dean wasn’t really going to the bathroom. He hadn’t missed the tent in his brother’s jeans, or the feeling of it pushing at him from behind, and he wasn’t disgusted. 

In fact, he kind of liked it.

+

Dean remembered to close and lock the bathroom door this time, and he tossed off his t-shirt, leaning back against the wall. He tugged down his jeans and his boxers, and his cock sprung up, already leaking. It ached faintly, begging for friction and release. 

He curled his fingers around himself, doing exactly what he had watched his younger brother do just moments ago, fucking his fist and breathing heavily through his nose. He moaned, back arching up against the wall, and he thrust harder, not even bothering to set himself a pace. He switched mid-way to use his left hand, bringing up his right to lick off the cum he had neglected to clean off of his fingers. He sucked them into his mouth, whimpering around them as he brought himself to the edge. He didn’t have much time; his little brother would be getting suspicious.

When he came, the name that left his lips in a groan was none other than -

“Sam!”

What he didn’t know was that his brother was pressed up against the door, listening. He had enjoyed it, too.

\+ 

It always went like that, or at least it did for a while. 

Their dad would be away on a hunt, having left them at a motel together, and Dean would help Sam get off. He always paid special attention to his brother’s nipples, but he never went further than giving him a hand-job. He never asked Sam for anything in return, and after every session, he would duck into the bathroom and get himself off, and Sam would hear that familiar groan. 

They didn’t talk about it a lot, but then again, they didn’t have to. 

+

The first time Dean kissed Sam was in that same year, on the Fourth of July. It was a couple weeks later actually, in the summer of 1996. It was warm outside, and dark, and the press of their lips together was sudden, but a moment Sam would never forget. It crossed a line, over into a certain territory for the relationship he had with his brother, and when the fireworks exploded, when the fuse got all the way to its target, the euphoric racing of his heart was enough to fling him into a frenzy. He had grabbed Dean, pulled him down and kissed him again, and when it ended, his brother gave him a smile that said, no matter what, no matter where they went, everything would be all right. As long as they stuck with each other, they would be just fine. 

The boys stole many kisses after that, sometimes in the dark - that would bring their minds back to the first time - but usually they shared them whenever they could, whenever they were alone together.

+

When Sam finally convinced Dean to fuck him, he was fifteen. Dean was nineteen, and their dad had left them - surprise, surprise - at yet another motel in Wisconsin for a week to stay by themselves. John was helping out an old friend with a hunt. Dean had offered to help, and Sam had too, but their dad only said, “I don’t need you two there. You would only be distractions, and moreover, you’d be liabilities. Just stay here.”

The boys had responded with their usual “Yes, sir,” but Sam wasn’t disappointed. He had been hoping for something like this for a while, an opportunity to go further. 

Dean had tossed his duffel bag on the bed - he had called dibs on the left one since John wouldn’t be sleeping at the motel anyway - and made his way over to the TV. He still couldn’t go get a job at a local garage. His dad had told him on the way, saying, “Dean, it’s one week. No one wants a one week hire, no matter how good you are.”

He had tried to convince him that he could make a little money to help out, but all John said back was, “I said no, and that’s final. You gonna disrespect me and keep talkin’ or are you going to be quiet?”

Dean uttered, “Sorry, sir,” and hadn’t said much since.

He was sitting on the motel’s couch now, watching TV, and Sam had plopped down beside him. He was bored and horny, and he wanted Dean to relax. He seemed to feel guilty about displeasing his father, and he needed to let that go.

Sam wanted to press kisses into his skin, but more than that, he wanted something from Dean - something big. The next step in their relationship, he supposed.

Sam leaned his head on his brother’s shoulder and put his hand on Dean’s thigh, sliding it up higher and rubbing just a few inches away from the fly of his jeans. He let his fingers tease the area until Dean spared him a heated glance - not quite a glare - and looked back at the screen, now airing a commercial with a tall, blonde woman turning in slow circles. She was showing off some dress, but it switched to her climbing onto a sleek sports car, zooming off with her scarf flowing in the wind.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek when Sam moved his hand closer to the zipper of his jeans, toying with it, using his pinky to run over it as his fingers brushed over the place where his thigh and crotch met. Sam cupped him suddenly, keeping his eyes on the screen and feigning an innocent look as he moved his hand about it.

Dean smacked his brother’s forearm when he squeezed at the bulge, biting back a groan. Instead, he scolded him with “Jesus, Sammy! What do you think you’re doing?”

Sam looked over at him, palming at his brother’s erection through his jeans, and said, “Dean, I just want to make you feel better. I want you to feel good.”

Dean swallowed, casting his gaze up at the ceiling. “Sammy, I’m fine. You don’t need to - ”

Sam cut him off before he could finish. “I don’t need to, no, but I want to.”

He felt Dean getting harder in his hand, and he let go, quick to climb onto his brother’s lap, straddling him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Dean. "You’ve gotta let me, though,” he said softly, kissing Dean’s jaw and neck. He stopped at his ear, licking it and nipping at it, playing with the lobe between his teeth. He liked the way his big brother’s breath would catch in his throat when he scraped his teeth gently against that spot right beneath his ear, how he could hear the low rumble of a groan that came up from Dean’s chest when he ground his ass down on his brother’s hard-on.

He held his hands on Dean’s shoulders, and continued what he was doing for a bit before he began to speak.

“Dean,” he whispered, adding a soft moan, “do you know what it’s like, spreading yourself open for the first time?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, and the low whine that came from his brother told him enough.

“Y’know, it’s phenomenal, Dean. I did it, and I came so, so hard, but you weren’t there. It wasn’t right without you.”

He grabbed Dean’s hands, pulling them to cup his ass, still grinding.

“I wanted you inside of me. My fingers weren’t what I needed, Dean, not enough.” Sam moaned again, moving to seal his lips over his brother’s for a moment before moving down to his brother’s neck again.

“I cried out for you, I did it so much,” he mumbled against Dean’s skin, “but you were gone, and I wanted you so badly. I stretched myself open with my fingers, and they were nothing like your cock’s gonna be, but they felt good.”

Dean’s head fell to the side, leaving Sam more room to lick at and bite as he spoke.

“I got onto your bed, and I buried my face in your flannel - I took one, your red one - and it smelled like you. I had my bare ass in the air, and the lotion was so cold when I put it on my hands. I pushed my fingers in, nice and slow and I sucked on my other ones, but my fingers just aren’t your big cock. I wanted it so bad - I want it now.”

Sam talked on, listening to Dean groan as he did. The little noises were quiet, like he was holding back, but Sam loved them anyway. Dean was so hard beneath him, and he slid off of his brother’s lap to settle between his knees after spreading his legs apart.

His face was close to the bulge in his brother’s jeans, and he didn’t hesitate to unzip the fly.

His brother grabbed his wrist, stopping him from going further.

Looking up at Dean with puppy-dog eyes, he pleaded, “Please, Dean. Can’t I do it? I want it so bad.”

His older brother’s eyes were dark, pupils wide enough to make his eyes look almost entirely black, if not for the ever-brilliant thin green rings around them, and his voice was husky as he said, “If you’re asking like that, Sammy, then it’s cruel to say no, isn’t it?”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “It would be,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to suck at Dean’s cock through the fabric of his boxers, then nosing at the rest of it.

Dean tried to keep himself from tangling his hands into Sam’s hair, but when his brother brought up a hand to free him from his underwear, he almost lost it.

Sam’s eyes widened, and he ran his fingers up it, squeezing the head experimentally as he marveled at the size. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, dragging his fist down, up, and back down, pumping it. He licked his lips eagerly.

“I know I said you were big but I’ve never - oh, god, I want it in my mouth. Shit, can I even - am I allowed to?” he asked, eyes lustful and hungry.

Dean coughed, trying to distract himself a bit. “You, uh - ah - you can, Sammy. If you really want to - ”

“I do!”

Without another word, Sam went at it with his mouth, first leaving little kitten licks on the tip before trailing his tongue from the head to the base.

He moaned at the taste of Dean’s skin. It was salty and warm, but still had a hint of sweetness. He smelled musky, and it turned Sam on like hell. He impatiently moved back up to take Dean’s cock into his mouth, sucking on the already-leaking head.

Dean’s head tipped back in a low moan and he gave in and twisted his fingers into the soft strands of Sam’s hair, gaining a higher sense of control as his brother began to work him over. His head bobbed and turned, trying new angles to get a good position, one that would bring Dean into a state of euphoric bliss, and he tried to keep his teeth off of him. He knew what to do for the most part, because he done his research and watched a little porn that he had found in Dean’s duffel bag one day when his brother went out on a food run find the nearest grocery store in some no-name, Podunk town in Iowa.

He had learned to use his tongue right, and he had mostly practiced with his fingers, just sucking them in and teasing at them with it late at night - usually when he was the only one awake. His fingers weren’t as long as his brother’s dick, or as thick, but they were enough preparation, he assumed. He had put his fingers in all the way down to the knuckles, and so he figured he could do the same with Dean, swallowing him in until he was nosing at his pubic hair.

Sam took Dean’s cock deeper into his mouth and the head rubbed against the roof of his mouth, making his brother jolt.

“Christ, Sam - ”

Dean’s words were cut off with a loud groan that roared through his chest when Sam did it again. He gripped Sam’s hair tighter, tugging it and pushing his head down further. He bucked his hips up on instinct, and thrust into his tight, hot throat.

A gagging sound left Sam’s mouth around his brother’s cock, and tears welled up in his eyes at the feeling. Sputtering as he backed off of it, panicked, he gave Dean a sheepish smile. “Sorry! I - um - wasn’t really expecting - ”

“No, Sammy it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, uh - ” Dean searched for a polite way to put what he had done, running his hand soothingly through Sam’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“What, fucked my throat?” Sam supplied a phrase - one that made Dean’s wet, slick cock twitch, but a phrase that was fitting. “I was kinda hoping you would. Guess I’m not really, ha, ready yet.”

His lips were swollen and darker shade of pink than they had been, and Dean had the urge to kiss him. Leaning down, he tilted up Sam’s chin and had his way with that pretty mouth, getting his brother to moan easily into his.

Sam climbed up to settle on Dean’s lap again, snaking his arms around his neck, not once breaking the kiss, and he ground down on his brother’s naked dick. The denim of his jeans felt rough, bringing Dean to groan - it almost sounded like a growl, but softer - and kiss Sam harder.

When he broke the kiss to speak, Sam whispered, “Dean, please, I want - ”

He stopped mid-way, and Dean urged him on. He cupped Sam’s ass, rutting up against him, and asked in a gravelly voice, “What, Sammy? What do you want?”

“I want you inside of me,” he said with a quiet whine. “I need it, Dean!”

“How bad, baby?” 

The pet name slipped out of Dean’s lips in a provocative tone, and Sam’s hazel, lust-filled doe eyes widened at it. He bit his lower lip, tugging it with his teeth to hold back a noise. “I want it so bad - so, so bad!”

“What’re you willing to do for it, Sammy?” Dean asked in a low voice, still thrusting up at his brother’s ass. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated and his grip on Sam hadn’t lessened.

“Anything - anything. I’ll open myself up for you, Dean,” Sam said with a whimper. “Tell me you’ll watch.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “I will,” he promised.

\+ 

Sam was on the bed, jeans on the floor with the rest of his clothes. He was kneeling, legs spread wide, face half-buried in a pillow and ass in the air. 

Dean had given him a small bottle, one he’d never seen before - “Lube, Sammy. I want you to use it, it’s in my duffel bag,” he had said huskily - and he had poured it onto his fingers. It was cold and slippery, and he would have flinched at it if he hadn’t known his big brother was watching. Instead, he brought his hand back to circle his fingers around his hole, teasing at the rim with his forefinger. 

He pushed in the very tip of it, going just a little further, lifting his hips more. He swayed them a little, pushing it in all the way, adjusting to the odd feeling and hearing a groan amid the wet noises from behind him. 

He knew Dean was touching himself, and he felt his dick jerk toward his stomach at the sight he envisioned. He pushed in a second finger, letting his mind fill with thought of his brother’s big cock, wet and leaking, pumping into his fist as he watched.

Sam moved his fingers in and out of his hole, and when he shifted them just right, they pressed a bundle of nerves that drove him wild. He cried out the first time, and tried repeating the motion, needing that rapturous feeling once more.

He kept on trying to find it, just barely rubbing up against it as he swayed his hips back to meet his hand. His moans were quiet, pillow stifling them, but every so often, he would turn up his head enough to whine Dean’s name.

“So fucking pretty, Sammy,” Dean praised, fixated on the way his brothers tight little ass-hole puckered around those slim digits. “Lookin’ so damn good.”

“It’s all yours, all for you,” Sam panted, thrusting his fingers into himself, frantically curling and uncurling them to brush that spot again. “Just want you to fuck me, Dean - “

“I will, baby,” Dean said, following it up with an uttered curse.”I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep that up though, lookin’ so wet and ready.”

The couch creaked and he heard footsteps coming his way. He moved his hand faster, pushing in each finger as deep as it would go, moaning out his brother’s name.

“Sammy, ’m here,” Dean whispered. 

“Thank god,” he keened. “I’m open enough - ’m not stretching anymore, Dean.”

He looked back towards his brother, toying with his rim as he waited, and when he saw Dean still had himself in hand, he moaned softly.

“You’re hard,” he breathed, sounding desperate and horny, “hard for me, right? I get that inside of me now.”

“Yeah, Sammy you do. Just let me get a condom,” Dean whispered, giving himself a final stroke and resting a hand on the small of Sam’s back.

Sam reached back to grab Dean’s wrist before he could get to the duffel bag and begged, “Dean, no. I just want you. Don’t use one, please.”

Anyone else, and Dean would have denied the request, given them a “Sorry, but no,” because no matter how good raw sex was, he wasn’t ‘bout to get a freaking STD, or worse, knock up a girl. But he knew Sam was clean, and so was he, and those damn puppy-dog eyes could convince him to do just about anything, so he gave in. 

“Fine, baby. But just today, okay?”

“For my first time,” Sam said softly in agreement, swaying his hips again, this time to entice Dean into moving along and getting back in gear. “For ours.”

Dean licked his lips, nodded, and positioned himself behind his little brother on the bed; he placed a hand on each of Sam’s ass-cheeks, spreading them wide to display his hungry, twitching hole, still dripping the last of the lube Sam had put on his fingers to fuck himself with.

Dean grabbed the bottle of lube, pouring quite a bit over his brother’s reddened ass-hole, swatting away Sam’s hand gently to massage in some of it, just to make sure he wasn’t going to be hurt. He took more and lathered his erection with it. he gripped himself and angled the tip at his brother’s hole, asking, “You really ready, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows to look back at his brother incredulously, losing his soft, erotic, needy demeanor for a moment. “Have you not heard a single thing that I’ve said? I want you to fuck me, Dean - c’mon!”

Dean narrowed his eyes for a second, pursing his lips, and raised his free hand, bringing his palm down on Sam’s ass in a firm smack on the left cheek. Sam gasped, and Dean told him to stay quiet. He bit his lower lip as Dean repeated it three more times, leaving red to blossom on his little brother’s milky skin. 

“The hell was that for?” Sam yelped afterwards. 

“For your sass, bitch. Don’t need that today. I was bein’ nice, offering you another chance to back out, ’n you get all bossy. Maybe you don’t need it.”

“I don’t, Dean. I just need your dick in my ass! Don’t be a jerk, give it to me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, who was peering over his shoulder to look at his brother. 

“Please?” He tried pouting a little, begging, “I want it so bad, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam had, but complied, grabbing Sam’s hip, holding him steady, guiding his cock to that red, puckered, little hole of his and pushing into Sam a bit without warning, startling him and causing him to jolt. 

His little brother’s face was squished into the pillow, ass up in the air and arms let down to rest, and muffled moan came up from Sam as he bit the pillow, the quick stretch of Dean’s cock pushing into his otherwise-virgin ass still burning despite the slickness of their skin from the lube. It stung a little, but Sam bit back any pained whine that may have bubbled up from his throat and slowly found the pleasure behind the feeling.

Even after a few rhythmic thrusts, it hurt, the feeling of Dean’s cock spreading him open repeatedly, but his brother’s intermittent praises were more than enough to distract him, the groans of “Jesus, you’re so tight,” and “Ah, baby, you’re doing so well,” filling his mind.

\+ 

It had been painful, but not as bad as the pain any monster could inflict; no, this pain was worth it, because it was Dean. 

It was Dean pounding into him from behind and grunting, soft groans intertwining with his own moans and whimpers as he got fucked by his big brother.

It was Dean that made him feel good, too. He reached around and played with Sam’s nipples, running his fingers over them, pinching and twisting them. He trailed kisses down his brother’s back. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging it and sealing his lips on the nape of Sam’s neck. 

It was so new, so different from his fingers, and Sam loved it. He loved that it was Dean, that it was his big brother, that it was the person he looked up to most in this world. He loved that he was making Dean this way, tender and powerful all at once.

Both Sam’s skin and Dean’s shone with sweat, and little noises of pure rapture spilled from Sam’s lips while his brother’s balls slapped his bare skin every time Dean rammed into that spot, the one that made him see stars and feel dizzy with delight.

When Dean began to lose his rhythm, breathing labored and grip tight, thrusts uneven and un-timed, Sam knew his brother was coming close, just dancing on the edge, and he was too. 

The hot, pent-up feeling that sat low in his stomach was no longer strange to him, and he welcomed it, despite the fact that he hadn’t been allowed even a little friction, but he hadn’t demanded it. He let Dean take over, controlling him, using his body as he pleased, but he knew he was coming anyway, even without their usual orgasm-inducing contact; he was so used to Dean getting him off by hand, but now, all he had to bring him to the place where he desperately wanted to be was that hard dick pounding into his ass. 

Dean gave one last hard, deep thrust before he came inside of Sam, a long, low groan accompanying his orgasm. The heat of his release filled Sam, and Dean had hit his prostate as he let the pleasure take over him, making Sam moan out loudly, back arching up and grinding back against his brother to follow him into that phenomenal abyss of euphoria. 

He came with a whimper, untouched, his dick left to ache as he fucked back on his brother’s softening, overstimulated cock until he could take it no longer; he found release solely from Dean’s cock abusing his prostate - that was the first time he came that way, but certainly not the last.

+

At age seventeen - two years after losing his virginity to Dean - Sam Winchester was quite an impressive young man. He was a straight-A student; he was strong, fast, and smart; he had schools from all over looking into him, offering scholarships; he intended to go to Stanford, and he had that opportunity in front of him on a proverbial silver platter. Not only was he an impressive student, but quite a horny teenager and a total cock-slut for his older brother.

And, for such an intellectual, he had a surprisingly filthy mouth when they were alone. 

When Dean would stand in the kitchen of wherever they were staying, cooking with his jeans hanging low and his flannel and t-shirt taken off and thrown over the back of a chair, Sam would come up behind him, wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist. 

He would whisper dirty things to Dean, nipping gently at his earlobe until he surrendered, leaning back against Sam. He’d palm Dean through the denim of his jeans, the rough texture worn soft over time, and when Dean went commando, Sam would push him back and settle beneath the counter between Dean’s legs. He would pull Dean’s dick out of the fly, murmuring that he had “such a perfect fucking cock,” and always followed it up with, “It’s gonna feel so good fucking my throat.”

He would run his tongue up the underside of it, holding Dean’s balls as he sucked at the head before taking in the whole shaft. He had gotten good at deep-throating, kicked his gag reflex to the curb, and figured out exactly what made his older brother feel good. He ran his free hand up Dean’s torso, scraping his nails over his belly and abs, heading straight up to work at his nipples, tweaking and twisting them.

He got Dean to orgasm quicker than you could say Poughkeepsie - he knew what brought him there, and he made his older brother moan, groan, and buck his hips into his mouth, forcing his cock further into Sam’s greedy mouth and throat.

“Jesus, Sam!” Dean would hiss afterwards, after his brother swallowed his release, and then would pull him up for a kiss, pushing him up against the fridge or the wall - whichever was closer - and grabbing his ass. Sam would grind down on the thigh that was always between his legs, clutching Dean’s naked shoulders, letting out a low whine when Dean pulled away his mouth.

Sometimes, this would be followed with Dean murmuring, “Sammy, let me check on breakfast, and then it’s payback time.” Other times, it would be followed by the breakfast burning because Dean was sucking Sam off - sometimes torturously slow - and returning the favor.

On the rare occasions where both the boys went on a hunt with their father - or, rarer yet, those few times when it was just the boys being sent out on a hunt together - and they pulled into a Gas-N-Sip lot, Sam and Dean would go in, saying they were going to the bathroom or buying something, or whatever excuse would allow them both to go, and when they got to the bathroom, the door’s lock would click and the fun would begin. Dean would pull out a condom - he kept a few of them in his wallet for situations like these - and let Sam roll it on, fucking him while holding him up by his thighs with his younger brother’s back slammed up against the wall. Sam liked it that way; he liked it rough, loved the way Dean’s cock spread him open and filled him up in a way that his fingers never could have.

“Christ, Dean - Dean! F - ”

Dean would always have to clap his hand over his little brother’s mouth, muffling his moans and cries, saying, “Damn it, Sammy, I love it, but someone’s gonna hear that pretty, whore-cake-hole o’ yours if you don’t shut it!”

Their father never caught them, but many cashiers had given them odd looks when they left the bathroom together, faces flushed and eyes on each other.

+

One day, on a whim, Dean had bought Sam a vibrating, remote-controlled plug at a novelty shop, and when they went on hunts, Dean would play around with the vibration level in the Impala on the way. He liked when Sam had to fight to keep a straight face, or fight back a breathy moan or a whine when he put it on the highest setting.

When Sam had begun figuring out leads and helping investigate before hunts, Dean would sit back on the sidelines, and when Sam found out something useful, he would turn up the vibration to a hard buzz. His little brother would squirm and clear his throat, casting him threat-filled glances, but he would smile at Sam and watch as he regained composure.

Dean liked that the plug kept Sam stretched and ready for him, too. It was a pretty damn good buy, in his opinion. He was able to fuck him without a whole lot of preparation and preamble, which was great for rushed sex.

Dean would tug out the plug, ask Sam if he wanted it bare or with a condom, and when his little brother wanted it bare, it was different - as in, different, like totally-fucking-phenomenal.

Sam would keen and cry out, and when Dean spread his legs and dug his nails into Sam’s skin, Sam would moan enough that Dean would say, “Jesus, Sammy - such a greedy little slut for my cock. You want more, baby?”

Sam would whine, just a low noise through his nose, and whimper, “Yes, please, Dean - give it to me!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Dean would growl, thrusting deep into Sam, squeezing his ass, “take it.”

Sam would cry out, and Dean would call him his little whore, his precious cock-slut who loved being filled up and owned. 

“How does it feel, baby?” he’d ask, and Sam would keep moaning like a bitch in heat. 

“It feels s-so good, Dean! Please - I want it harder!”

Dean fucked his little brother, pressing his lips against his little brother’s skin as he pounded into him repeatedly until they came nearer to their orgasms. He would stop himself from bringing Sam to his release, and sometimes he would leave him like that - desperate, hard, leaking and aching - just to mess with him. Usually, it was because he had disobeyed Dean somehow, but other times he just did it because he knew Sam was into it, much more than he would ever say aloud.

But when he did finish his brother off, he would jerk him off while he thrust into his tight ass at the plead of “Dean, please - touch me! I’m so fucking close!” and kiss him hard to keep both Sam and himself quiet as they came.

They were like that for so long, hooking up as often as they could; it was passionate, but their brotherly bond was still strong - their secret, taboo relationship didn’t hurt that. They had a dynamic outside of sex; they were so in-sync with each other. 

It hurt Dean - it agonized him much more than any physical wound ever had - when Sam left for Stanford, and no matter how many women or men he picked up on hunts or just being out-and-about, none of them were the right fit. They didn’t call out his name right; they didn’t have Sam’s hair, his face, his body; no one else was quite right.

+

When John went on a hunting trip that lasted just a little too long for Dean to be comfortable with - he had’t been home in a few days, and it was supposed to be an easy run. He went to Sam for help, pushing aside the wistfulness and the sting of seeing him with a girl, like he had moved on completely, and the fire between them rekindled on their journey to find their father. 

Bad things happened, and, upon those few-but-wonderful occasions, good things happened. They went through everything together, built their lives back together again, but sex wasn’t quite the same.

It’s different now; the tables have turned. Sam wasn’t as submissive after college - not that Dean minded - he could adapt, and that he did. Once the boys fell back into their routine it was easy, and when they were finally at home in the bunker - Dean more so than Sam, but still, grounded nonetheless - they found themselves spending their free time alone together. 

Dean was always eager for a good fuck from Sam - he liked the way it felt when his ass was filled up by his brother - and was even more zealous when it came to those rarer opportunities when he got to be the one doing the fucking. Those days were extra special. He loved it when Sam pushed him back on the bed and rode him, and when he got to screw him from behind, he was taken back to their first time. His younger brother’s ass up in the air, his hands tangled up in Sam’s hair - it had gotten even longer, silky and beautiful; “princess hair,” he called it - to tug it just the way his little bother liked it as he pounded into him, both of them chasing their orgasms and bringing each other closer until that release took them over the edge. 

He enjoyed that so much, but no matter where he was, top or bottom, it was always good sex with Sam.

Sometimes, it was a blowjob in the Impala - it was a good thing that Dean was one hell of a good driver, or he’d have swerved off the road quite a few times when Sam worked his mouth magic - or hand-jobs and kisses in the shower. It was a rough fuck in a motel room or just a good night together in the bunker. It was pushing each other up against counters and walls and cars, kissing each other ‘til they were breathless, until their lips were reddened and swollen from biting and sucking and pressing. It was heated gazes, searing touches, the tension rising between them. It was angry sex, make-up sex, birthday sex, holiday sex, and we-slayed-that-son-of-a-bitch celebratory sex. It was obscene, it was hot, it was great sex.

Other times, in contrast, it was warm, tender moments - the soft brush of lips on lips late at night, or the comfort of an arm around Dean’s waist or Sam’s shoulders, or a simple utterance of the lines that said “I love you” louder than anything. 

Be it the simple offering of “You wanna drive?” or “Don’t get dead,” they had little ways of saying it. “Don’t be such a wuss.” “I need you safe.” “I’m not leavin’ you.” “I got you breakfast.” “You look like crap.” “Be careful.” 

Most commonly, though, was the affectionate muttering of “Bitch,” always, followed by, “Jerk.”

With their synergy and dynamic, they could communicate so much in a look, in a mere glance. 

Sam and Dean were two halves of a whole; they are, and always have been. They are, in a sense, one, and apart - separated by petty things, lies with good intentions, they fall. 

In the words of Abraham Lincoln, a house divided against itself cannot stand.

Only time will tell if the Winchesters can make it through the mess, the beautiful, bitter-sweet and complex hell that their life is, but never doubt for a moment that they are stronger together, even as each other’s biggest weakness.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this Wincest fic - remember, Kudos and Comments are appreciated! :)
> 
> Please, feel free to check out my profile, folks - I'll see you soon with more content!


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